


play together

by orphan_account



Category: Family Guy (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 04:32:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15678090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Two unfinished kink drabbles.





	1. piss play

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "I Need Some Fine Wine and You, You Need to Be Nicer" by The Cardigans.

Brian stinks like liquor when he crawls into Stewie’s crib. This isn’t an unfamiliar situation for the two of them to be in, exactly, but it doesn’t happen so often that Stewie no longer feels a downward tugging in his stomach, like his guts have been fish-hooked, Pavlovian arousal (and how ironic that is; after all, he’s not the dog here) at Brian being in his bed with him and irritation at being woken up in the middle of the night by a pathetic drunk and residual compassion for said pathetic drunk and his use of alcohol as an emotional crutch.

“Stewie?” Brian slurs in a whisper. “Stewie, are you awake?”

“I am now,” Stewie snaps. “What do you want? It better be worth waking me up at God knows what time at night for.”

“I need to take a leak,” Brian grumbles in response.

“Then you should have crawled into the bathroom instead!”

“Too far,” he sighs. He burrows a little into the mattress and presses his cold, wet snout to the back of Stewie’s neck, making Stewie shiver before he finds his voice again and says, “You’re not pissing in here. Only one of us can get away with that at their age, and I’m not going to sleep covered in your urine.”

“Please?” Brian whines, and he sounds so genuinely upset at the prospect of having to get back out of Stewie’s crib that Stewie almost, _almost_ relents.

Then an idea strikes, like a cartoon bolt of lightening penetrating his skull. “Just for waking me up, you have to hold it. You’re not allowed out of here for the next - hm, I’ll be kind and say an hour. If you can’t hold it, then…” He trails off for a moment, contemplating. By design, Brian shouldn’t win, so Stewie better make the punishment good. “…Then you need to give me a massage.”


	2. wax play

They’ve been in New York for the better part of three days when Brian taps out _new york tourist attractions_ into his phone and clicks on the first link that he sees. He thrusts his phone at Stewie and says, voice a little rough around the edges with sleep, and says, “Pick one.”

Well, “with sleep” is a bit misleading. They _had_ just woken up, but slumber had only come to them after Brian had wrung a third dry orgasm out of Stewie and the two of them had flopped back into the puffy hotel pillows, damp with drool and sweat, and passed out. As it turns out, even the siren song of an impeccably-organized itinerary and the excitement of being back in a city that they both harbored some inexplicable nostalgia for wasn’t enough to conquer the urge to rut like animals - well, like _baser_ animals, anyway - until it seemed that _everything_ ached.

Stewie scrolls through the page, stopping about midway down. “Let’s do Madame Tussauds,” he suggests. “I think I’d like to see her Prince Harry in person. Do you think the Fat Man is stupid enough to believe that we took a picture with royalty? Rhetorical question, by the way; I know the answer is ‘yes.’“

“All this _art_ ,” Brian says, “and _culture_ , and _heritage_ , and you want to go to a wax museum? To see an ugly ginger?”

“You take that back!” Stewie cries. “He isn’t ug - ” He pauses. “Well, he’s royalty, at any rate, and I want a picture.”

“I can just buy you a cardboard cutout and I promise you that Peter won’t know the difference. Hell, I’ll buy a wig and put it on and Peter probably wouldn’t know the difference then, either.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Stewie says, leaning forward to press a kiss to his neck. “You may not be a prince, but at least you don’t look like someone left Ed Sheeran in a hot car.”

“I appreciate the compliment,” Brian says, “but, at the risk of sounder gayer than I already am, Prince Harry’s more attractive than Ed Sheeran. That’s a fact.”

“Mm, you’re not wrong,” Stewie concedes. “You must have fucked my quick wit out of me.”

“I’ll fuck more than that out of you,” Brian says, climbing back on top of him. “We’ll save the wax museum for tomorrow.”

“You’re _insatiable_ ,” Stewie sighs happily.


End file.
